(Continued)
"Calm down, Chetch," John chuckled. "Don't get ya knickers in a twist. Give her a ciggy, Rodders."
"Why me?!"
"Just give it," John snapped.
There was no way he was gonna give the girl one of his Marlboro's just to watch her cough and splutter and waste a damn good cigarette. He was running low and they weren't bloody cheap that's for sure, not that he paid for them. He blackmailed Eric into handing them over. Though, John wasn't actually gonna tell Eric's new bird that Eric wanked over another girl the day before they got together. But Eric didn't have to know that now, did he? John wasn't that much of a git.
Anyway, John didn't have to ask Rod again. He simply tutted and mumbled something under his breath, handing a ciggy over to Celia. She thanked him with an extra appreciative smile that seemed to read 'much appreciated' and 'sorry your mate's such a prick'. The girl placed the cigarette between her lips, and Rod was quick to give her a light, though he examined her face as he did it.
"You look different," he stated, putting the lighter back in his pocket.
John watched Celia like a hawk as she took her first drag. He waited for the choking noises to begin so he could mock her but she didn't even so much as pull a face. She smoked it effortlessly like she was used it and perhaps she was, John didn't exactly know her well.
With a slightly amused smile, Celia said to Rod, "Do I take that as a compliment, then?" There was an element of sophistication to her as she balanced her cigarette between her small slim fingers.
"Far from it," muttered John.
"Yeah, it's a good different," Pete said.
Celia thanked him with a hint of pride in her voice and then added, "You haven't changed much, though, Pete." He frowned at that and Celia chuckled. "You're still the chatty, blonde, curly-haired lad I've known since the first year of Quarry Bank."
"Well, you could at least tell me i've grown a few inches." His lips stretched into a smile and this time she returned it.
"Not his cock, that's for sure," grinned John. "The size of that ain't changed since his mother pushed him out." Pete furrowed his brows at John and his forehead displayed those four wavy wrinkles that John loved to tease him about. He traced over them with pen one time when they were kids, and it didn't end well.
"You've seen his cock then, John?" Rod asked with a wry smile, leaning forward in the chair.
"Not as much as you have, la'."
"Shut it, Lennon," Rod laughed, reaching out to kick John. John jumped out the way giggling, despite the fact that Rod wasn't even close enough to actually hit him.
Suddenly, Celia let out a few short coughs and John saw his chance to throw her a comment.
"Tut tut, nasty habit that."
"Tell that to yourself and the millions of others who smoke. Or you could write to the newspapers, whatever you prefer."
"Alright, mouthy, maybe I will."
"Don't call me mouthy," Celia scowled. "I'm not."
John laughed in disbelief. The girl had more mouth on her than any bird he'd ever known.
"Oh, yeah?" he questioned. "Tell me the reason why ya got kicked out of class and thrown into detention again." Quoting Mr Taylor in an exaggerated posh voice he said, "You've got quite a mouth on you, Miss Pooley. Insolence will not be tolerated."
Celia tutted and shook her head, taking a quick, irritated draw on her cigarette.
"He doesn't like to be humiliated you know."
"I didn't humiliate him," Celia snapped.
"You did, with the whole everyone's an artist bullshit."
Back in Taylor's office, Celia unexpectedly came to John's defence when he told John his drawings weren't real art. "They're not rubbish, Sir. No one's art is rubbish," Celia had said, with such fervour and vindication. "Art is something to one person, and something else to another."
Before Mr Taylor could interject, she mentioned the painting above his wall to strengthen her judgment: "You know, Seurat's techniques were a major turnoff for some critics at the Impressionist exhibit in 1886." Georges Seurat wasn't exactly John's artistic inspiration but he liked that painting of his. It was that famous one depicting a gathering of Parisians relaxing by a river bank. "People sneered at the rigid profiles of Seurat's subjects, but now it's considered a masterpiece. Everyone's work is different, Sir, and everyone has their own tastes," she affirmed.
And if Taylor wasn't humiliated enough by what she said, she finished her argument with, "If Seurat had listened to people like you. That painting wouldn't be there on your wall now."
Of course, John didn't want to admit it to the girl but he was deeply impressed with her insight and artistic knowledge. She certainly knew a lot more than he did. There weren't a lot of birds in school who could gab about nineteenth-century artists. Come to think of it, there weren't many girls he could have an intellectual conversation with unless of course, it was his cousin, Leila. Celia reminded him of her a bit. They'd probably get on well too.
Anyway, he agreed with Celia to some extent. The rest was debatable.
"It's not bullshit, it's true," Celia said, seeming a little bit hurt by John's lack of agreement. "Everyone has a different way of expressing themselves, John, and that still counts as art."
"Bollocks," John chuckled, ciggy hanging out of his mouth. She's foolish to think so too.
Celia stood with her arms folded and John could tell she was becoming defensive over it. "All art deserves to be appreciated, don't you think? I thought you would agree with me, seeing as you call yourself an artist."
"I never called me'self an artist, love." He pointed his fag at her. "You did."
"Seurat was a neo-impressionist, John's work is different but he's still an artist." John would've been truly flattered if he believed Celia really cared about his artwork. Instead, she just wanted to prove a point and outwit Mr Taylor, didn't she? She couldn't give two shits about John's artistry, it was just a way for her to defend her own title as an artist. She clearly had a passion for it and would've come to anybody's defence. No, she didn't care for John at all which is why he didn't mention his appreciation.
The pair of them seemed to forget about the presence of the other two boys. Rod's mind seemed to be elsewhere but Pete, on the other hand, was pensive and had something to say about all this art talk. "Right so, if I paint me nuts green and stuck 'em on a canvas, is that still art?"
John laughed. Celia rolled her eyes, though he could see the trace of amusement on her face.
"Providing you get off the canvas," Celia replied, with a slight smile. John was a little surprised that she joined in on the joke instead of scowling at it like he expected her to.
"Yeah, no one wants to see your tiny goolies, son," John chuckled. "Especially not a green pair at that."
"All this talk of cock and bollocks has got me needing a piss," Rod piped up. He flicked the butt of his cigarette on the leaves beside him and slapped his hands on his legs, forcing himself up out of his comfy position.
"Me too," Pete said, popping his cigarette in his mouth and following Rod further into the little woodland.
"Well don't piss near me."
"I wasn't gonna, ya twit."
"Why are ya following me then?"
"To the pissing spot."
"Make yer own pissing spot," Rod said, forcefully nudging Pete away from him.
With a smile on her face, Celia stood shaking her head at the two boys who carried on bickering. She obviously didn't seem to mind those two, seeing as their folly was of amusement to her. It's just me she saves her dirty looks looks for, John thought.
"What are you lookin' at me like that for?" Celia curiously asked. John hadn't been aware he'd been staring at her. Celia flicked her cigarette on the ground, waiting for an answer.
"I didn't know you smoked, Chetch."
"There's not much you do know about me though is there, Lennon?"
"I know yer a prude."
Celia shrugged. "I know you're a prick, but some things can't be helped."
John stubbed out his cigarette on the tree behind him before throwing it in a pile of leaves. "Alright. Touché, mouthy."
A genuine smile was shared between them and they knew they didn't have to say anything to one another then. No jeer or jibe, like they were so used to throwing at each other. Their shared, comfortable silence along with the autumnal breeze that surrounded them seemed to relax the pair of them. With her eyes closed and her head tilted against the tree, Celia basked in the little rays of sunlight which shone directly onto her skin through the trees above her. She appeared so radiant as the sun's golden hues glowed against her blonde hair and fair skin. And with everything else so dimly lit around her, she looked remarkably angelic.
John couldn't take his eyes off the girl. Especially those legs of hers. Her skirt sat crinkled at the top of her thigh as she rested her foot high on the tree trunk behind her. John couldn't help but take pleasure in his provocative thoughts about her, as he imagined what it would feel like to grab hold of her curves. To watch her quiver as he skimmed his fingertips along the inside of her thighs and slowly caress those sensitives spots. He imagined the heat of her core as he brushed his knuckles against the slickness of her underwear and the feeling of her wetness coming through onto his fingers. Fuck, his dick was already throbbing at the thought of it all and he shook his head, forcing himself to stop. Why was he drawn to the girl? He didn't even like her that much. She was a prig, a bitch, she meant nothing to him. Not that any of the birds ever did but how come the mere thought of simply touching her sent him pulsing?
Celia's eyes fluttered open, waking up from wherever her mind had taken her. It was John's turn to close his eyes now, and the minute she looked towards him, he shut them quickly, not wanting her to know that he'd been staring her out for the past couple of minutes. Not that she would've known anyway. Even with his eyes closed, the image of her was still prodding his mind, though this time she was skirtless with John lying in-between her thighs, pulling down at her lace with his-ah fuck, snap the hell out of it, Lennon.
"So John.."
"Hmm?" he replied, a little too quickly.
"Do you keep all those girls of yours hostage here too, or is it just me?"
"Only the lucky few," he replied with a cheeky smile, one eye open to look at her.
"Lucky? Why's that then?"
"Because they're here with me of course, why else?"
Celia scrunched her face at him. "My god, you're so bloody pretentious."
He opened his eyes and leaned against the tree, crossing his foot over the other. "I don't hear you complain', love."
"That's because I haven't even started!"
Here we go.
"Well, save it if ye know what's good for ya. You complain too much. Speaking of which, you burned that shit essay of yours yet?"
Celia's face stiffened and John's lips spread into a smirk.
"This one here thinks she's Virginia Woolf," John joked to Pete, who was back from his rather long piss. John hadn't even heard Rod come back but there he was sitting back in the chair.
Pete scratched his head. "Who's Virginia Woolf again?"
Both of the literature experts looked at the blonde boy dazed and at the same time, they mumbled, "Christ."
"She's an author, Shotton," Rod said.
John caught Celia sighing over the time on her watch. "Tick-Tock, somewhere to be, Ms Woolf?"
Celia tutted. "Yeah anywhere away from you. I'm hungry and I'm leavin'."
"Aw what, so soon?" he replied sarcastically. "There's enough spunk 'ere to fill your appetite, love, yer just gotta ask us."
The boys sniggered, Rod, in particular, clapping his hands together like a seal. John grinned at Celia though she was far from amused. She was back to that look of revulsion and she wasn't gonna let it pass.
"Do you know, you're truly vile, Lennon? Like seriously, it's not attractive; it's disgusting. And if a girl gets into your bed after you've spoken to her like that then she must have little respect for herself."
The boys were silent now, mouth slightly agape looking from Celia to John.
"And yous two, I don't know why you laugh at him, he's not funny," Celia scolded, glaring at Pete and Rod. Their eyes flickered to the ground as if they were two naughty boys ashamed of their wrongdoings. "Being as crude as him gets you nowhere."
John had heard enough. He stormed towards her, fist clenched and for a second she thought he was going to hit her. Good. The little bitch should feel threatened.
He stood over the top of her. Nostrils flaring, jaw clenched. If the girl was scared, she didn't show it. She was tough and it pissed him off even more.
"Who the fuck do you think ya are, talkin' shit about me to my mates?" His breathing was hot against her skin, and the fury was evident in his eyes as he spoke. "You know nothing little girl," he spat. "Now do y'self a favour ya frigid bitch and fuck off."
Rod and Pete were close to John now, both of them straight-faced and wary of the situation. They weren't standing there for added intimidation, rather, they were there as a form of protection. If John were to raise a hand, fist, foot, whatever it may be- they were there to stop their violent friend from lashing out. They'd been in that position many times before with him, only it would've been a lad in the place of Celia. Girls never dared speak about John the way she did, certainly not to his face.
Pete looked over John's shoulder at Celia and he quickly nodded towards the path, gesturing for her to leave. She did have a mouth on her and Pete was concerned, scared almost that if she didn't back down things would get nasty between her and his best friend.
Celia's eyes flickered from Pete to John. "I'm leaving, don't worry about that."
"Well of yer pop then. Still hanging around here like a fly on a lump of dog shit."
"The only shit here is you, John," she said quietly. Her voice wavered as if she were about to cry.
"Oooooooh!" he mocked. "Prudy's got balls, fellas. Not the kind she needs though, eh boys?" He leaned his pelvis forward and grabbed his crotch, shaking it at Celia. How's that for fucking crude.
Celia shook her head with such disapproval not even bothering to give John the satisfaction of looking at him. She looked at Rod instead and said, "thanks for the ciggy, and sorry about your apple, Pete."
And with that, she walked away, leaving the three boys silently watch her disappear through the trees and John, well John was left standing with a peculiar stirring deep within his chest.
*****
Ugh, what's John like, eh? 🙄
Sorry if you thought these past two chapters dragged, I just wanted to establish how John and Celia perceive each other thus far! (If you enjoyed it, then ignore me, haha 😂)
Anyway, thank you again for reading and as always I would love to hear your thoughts & I appreciate the votes!
See you in the next chapter! ❤️
Scarlett x